The Trench

by Steve Alten

  “What the hell happened?” Prokovich yelled.

  Celeste waited until the noise died down. “One of the Kronosaurs struck the bay window. Benedict’s dead.”

  An engineer ran over to her. “Hear that creaking sound? The titanium plates are actually shrinking. Stress analysts refer to it as strain. This entire ship could lose integrity and implode at any moment.”

  Celeste turned to Prokovich. “Vlad, is the Prometheus loaded?”

  “Yes, but we’ve got another problem. Sonar has detected an immense life-form heading in our direction. Thirteen kilometers to the north, should arrive at our location within the next eighteen to twenty minutes. Whatever it is, it’s huge, at least seventy feet long.”

  Angel . . .

  “How soon can we leave?”

  “Ten minutes. But that’s not all. The Goliath is reporting that Jonas Taylor is on his way down in one of the Abyss Gliders.”

  “Jonas? Oh, this is too perfect. Is Terry in the hangar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Captain, contact the Goliath. Have them patch a call through to Jonas via the William Beebe. I’ll take the call in the hangar control room, then meet you aboard the Prometheus in ten minutes. Alert the crew. We’re abandoning ship.”

  * * *

  Enveloped in darkness, Jonas stared into the swirling depths of the abyss, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Foreboding gnawed at his gut, the acrid taste of fear dried his mouth.

  A glow appeared, circling below. Jonas struggled, fighting to turn the sub.

  The head rose upward, jaws hyperextended, teeth bared—

  Jonas blinked—staring into empty darkness. With trembling hands, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. “You’re hallucinating,” be told himself. “Stay focused, you’ve got to stay focused, stay awake—”

  Without warning, a deafening explosion roared in his ears, followed seconds later by a rising shock wave that tossed the tiny sub backward, flipping it nose cone over tail.

  Jonas clutched his head, his ears ringing from the blast. An implosion—had to be the Benthos. God, no—oh, God please—

  Jonas regained control of the sub and raced for the bottom.

  Several minutes passed before the ringing stopped and he could hear again.

  “Jonas, come in please—”

  He switched on the radio. “Masao, that explosion—”

  “We heard it too, but Celeste Singer says the Benthos is still intact.”

  Thank God . . .

  “She wants to speak with you. She says it’s about Terry.”

  “Patch it through.”

  After a moment of heavy static, he heard Celeste’s voice. “Jonas, can you hear me?”

  “Speak.”

  * * *

  Staring at Terry through the window of the hangar control room, Celeste switched on the external speaker, allowing her prisoner to hear the conversation.

  “Jonas, there’s been another accident aboard the Benthos,” Celeste said. “We’re forced to abandon ship. Benedict’s dead. Jonas, I’ve seen Terry’s remains. Darling, you don’t want to look—”

  “I need to see for myself.”

  Terry heard her husband’s voice over the speaker and began screaming his name.

  Celeste smiled behind the soundproof glass. “Jonas, I know how important it is for you to be sure. I know you want to get on with your life, and I want to help. Listen carefully. Running along the lower deck of the Benthos is a large hangar. Above the doors is a motion detector. I’m going to set the entry system on automatic. You’ll need to do an initial pass-by to activate the system. It takes about five minutes to flood and pressurize the chamber before the doors will open. Once you enter, the hangar will reseal and depressurize automatically. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jonas, this is a difficult time, you losing Terry, me losing Benedict, but I want you to know that I love you and I’ll be there for you, when you’re ready—”

  Jonas switched off the radio.

  Celeste activated the automatic entry system, then stepped out of the control room, locking the door from the inside. She walked over to Terry, who was seated on the floor, hands tied behind her back.

  “How does it feel to know your husband will be the one who ends up killing you?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Don’t worry, Jonas will take care of that after you’re gone. We’ll probably start a family right away—”

  Terry jumped to her feet.

  Celeste pushed her back down. “Sorry, one cat fight a day is all I’m good for. Oh, in case you were wondering, Benedict really is dead. Don’t bother shedding any crocodile tears for him, Benedict fucked his way into hell. Anyway, have a nice death.”

  Terry waited until Celeste had sealed the door behind her. Then she rolled onto her back, squeezing her legs through her bound wrists so that her arms were now out in front of her. More determined than ever, she began tearing into the wire with her teeth, refusing to think about the hangar doors that her husband would activate within the next few minutes.

  * * *

  Celeste climbed down into the Prometheus, Prokovich sealing the hatch behind her. The interior of the sub was wall to wall with men, all of whom were standing on top of buckets filled with tons of manganese nodules.

  “Rig ship for dive,” the sub’s captain ordered.

  “Aye, sir. Seals tight, depressurizing chamber sleeves.”

  “Release docking clamps.”

  “Aye, sir, clamps released—”

  The Prometheus dropped like a lead weight toward the seafloor.

  “Release all weight plates! Engage shaft, full power—”

  The sub leveled out, the bow struggling to rise.

  “Why the hell are we moving so slow?” Celeste asked.

  “We’re overloaded,” the captain said. “But as long as we’re rising, we should be okay.”

  * * *

  Jonas switched on his exterior light, staring down into the swirling muck that isolated the hydrothermal layer from the rest of the Trench. He surveyed the darkness, his heart pounding wildly.

  Okay, Jonas, no glow means go . . .

  Pushing down on the joystick, he guided the AG-2 through the current of silt.

  Jonas held on as the winged sub was tossed about as if caught in a downdraft. Moments later, the Abyss Glider punched through the torrent, entering Devil’s Purgatory.

  Jonas activated his sonar and located the Benthos. As he adjusted his course, a torchlike glow began rising up from the seafloor far below and to his left. He headed for the light, knowing it to be the Prometheus, a red dot appearing on his screen, marking the sub’s position.

  Two more blips appeared, startling him. Moving much faster, the objects circled up and around to his right, remaining concealed, somewhere in the darkness.

  Kronosaurs!

  Barely breathing, Jonas stared hard into the abyss, seeing nothing. The blips drew closer, the life-forms seeming to detect his presence.

  One of the creatures closed in from behind, the other circled to his right.

  Jonas raced for the Prometheus.

  The circling Kronosaur banked sharply, cutting him off from the submersible.

  Son of a bitch—they outmaneuvered me! A tightness gripped his throat. The Kronosaurs were not only larger and faster than his vessel, but intelligent hunters, working in tandem.

  Pressing down on the joystick, Jonas descended toward the creature blocking his way, all the while focusing on the RANGE TO TARGET indicator on his console.

  Three hundred feet . . .

  Jonas saw a dark silhouette appear above the light beam of the Prometheus.

  One hundred feet . . .

  He reached for his exterior light switch.

  Fifty feet . . .

  Now!

  Jonas hit the light, then barrel-rolled the Abyss Glider around the stunned Kronosaur.

  Before he could react, the larger of the two beasts closed in fr
om behind, then suddenly veered away, disappearing with its offspring.

  The blips on his radar screen moved off toward the east.

  Before he could breathe relief, another blip appeared on the screen. Jonas felt a shiver run down his spine. This object was different—much larger—homing in from the south.

  Jonas knew why the Kronosaurs had fled. He stared into the pitch, his pulse racing, waiting for her glow to appear.

  The Prometheus passed him on his left, the slowly ascending bulk momentarily dragging his sub in its wake. With the blazing array of lights behind him, Jonas could now make out the lights of the Benthos glittering eight hundred feet below on the dark seafloor.

  Four hundred feet to his right, Angel’s menacing glow appeared, a pinpoint of light quickly growing larger.

  Jonas raced for the Benthos.

  * * *

  The sixty-two-thousand-pound female entered the battlefield, her senses pinpointing multiple prey. The beast’s ampullae of Lorenzini registered the heartbeat of the Kronosaurs, while its lateral line isolated the vibrations generated by the Abyss Glider’s twin thrusters.

  Ignoring both, Angel homed in on the largest and slowest moving of the three challengers lurking in the female’s domain.

  * * *

  Celeste stared out of the porthole, her heart pounding as she waited for the unearthly glow to appear.

  “The Meg’s closing fast,” reported sonar. “One thousand feet—”

  Celeste saw the glow. “Goddamn it, Captain, do something!”

  He slapped her hand away. “Like what? Jettison the crew?”

  “Eight hundred feet—”

  She turned to Prokovich. “Vlad—”

  “It’s too late,” he whispered. “We’re going to die—and for what? A bunch of damn rocks.”

  * * *

  The two blips reappeared. The creatures were racing up from the seafloor, cutting Jonas off from the Benthos.

  He cursed, whipping the Abyss Glider in a tight one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, ascending back toward the Prometheus.

  “Oh, shit—”

  He saw Angel. She had closed on the Geo-Tech sub and was now circling, a prelude to attack.

  “Jonas, can you hear me!”

  Jonas hit the radio switch. “I hear and see you, Celeste.”

  “Jonas, please, there’re twenty people on board—can you lure your shark away—at least until we make it above the layer—”

  Whomp! The AG-2 was jolted hard to starboard.

  Jonas fought to regain control, glancing at the crimson eye of the devil pressing its face against the nose cone to his left.

  Jonas banked hard to starboard.

  “Jonas—”

  “I’m a little busy right now!”

  The adult pliosaur appeared in his headlights out of nowhere.

  “Fuck—” Jonas whipped the AG-2 into an inverted three-sixty, as a monstrous set of crocodilian jaws snapped at his tail fin.

  Working together, the creatures circled, keeping the AG-2 between them. Unable to shake himself free, Jonas climbed straight up in a vertical ascent, racing to save himself within the protective lights of the Prometheus.

  * * *

  Celeste screamed as Angel rammed her hideous snout against the bow of the sub, tasting her prey.

  The sub pitched sideways, its engines straining against the roll.

  Angel circled. The creature was inedible, but it was still an enemy.

  The sonarman wiped droplets of sweat away from his screen. “Six hundred feet to ceiling—here comes Taylor!”

  * * *

  Jonas raced toward the Prometheus, squinting against the blinding lights coming from the sub’s hull.

  The two Kronosaurs abruptly broke from their attack.

  Momentarily relieved, Jonas continued heading for the ceiling, then banked sharply, descending in a wide arc to head back to the Benthos.

  Jonas craned his neck left and right, his heart racing as he searched the void for the glow, unable to see much of anything because of the bright lights of the Prometheus. As he soared past the Geo-Tech sub, Angel’s mammoth white head appeared out of the darkness directly in front of him. Her jaws opened wide, revealing a beckoning black void he had seen a hundred times in his dreams.

  “Oh, shit—” Jonas yanked the joystick backward and to the side. Too late.

  The tips of the serrated teeth snapped down on his port-side midwing, shredding it cleanly from the hull.

  The crippled AG-2 spun sideways, barrel-rolling over and over, out of control.

  Angel turned to follow.

  Jonas pushed down on the joystick, plunging nose cone first to escape the faster huntress, hurtling right into the path of the two ascending Kronosaurs.

  The startled pliosaurs darted away from the jaws of their immense enemy, dispersing in a wide arc to intercept their escaping prey along the bottom.

  * * *

  Celeste watched the Abyss Glider disappear in the darkness below, the Megalodon chasing it toward the seafloor. “How close to the hydrothermal ceiling are we now?”

  “We’ll be through in two minutes,” said a relieved Prokovich. He studied the sonar. “Looks like your friend’s not going to make it.”

  “C’est la vie. Wait . . . Goddamn it—what about Terry?”

  “A deck’s implosion has cost the Benthos its spherical shape. As we speak, billions of pounds of pressure are pushing against the flattened hull. The bending forces at this depth are fantastic. I guarantee the ship won’t last another twenty minutes.”

  Celeste smiled, picking up the radio receiver. “Jonas, my love, I hope you can hear me. Thanks so much for the help. I promise I’ll buy you a lovely tombstone.”

  Jonas ignored her, too busy fighting to regain control of the out-of-balance sub.

  Angel’s snout rammed into the tail assembly, her bioluminescent glow lighting the interior of the cockpit as the Abyss Glider soared blindly toward the unseen floor of the abyss.

  Celeste’s voice continued grating on his nerves over the radio.

  “Jonas, let’s be honest. Don’t you wish you would have made love to me that night in my cabin?”

  The auxiliary prop . . .

  Gritting his teeth, Jonas strained to reach the lever.

  Circling upward from the bottom, the big female Kronosaurus raced into the fray, opening its jaws to steal its enemy’s meal.

  “It would have been the greatest fuck of your life, Jonas, the greatest. You would have fallen in love with me—”

  Sensing the Kronosaurus rising toward her prey, Angel opened her mouth, teeth bared as she strained to bite down upon the tail of the Abyss Glider.

  “—instead, you’re going to die. Too bad for Terry, who’s still alive aboard the Benthos, waiting for you to rescue her.”

  “What? She’s alive—and you left her down there—”

  “She’s alive at the moment. She’ll be dead on arrival—your arrival.”

  “You fucking bitch—”

  “Wish I could have hung around to see the reunion. Give her corpse a big hug from me.”

  Jonas heard the Prometheus crew laughing. His stomach tightened in knots, a fit of rage rising in his throat as his face flushed in anger. Twisting the lever counterclockwise, he oxidized the tank of liquid hydrogen, igniting the auxiliary propellers.

  The AG-2 shot out of Angel’s hyperextended jaws like a torpedo.

  The mini-sub streaked past the stunned Kronosaur, then raced upward, soaring by the Megalodon, which turned to give chase.

  Jonas grabbed the radio. “Hey, Celeste, don’t look now, but I’m about to give you the greatest fuck of your life!”

  He cut his speed in half, waiting for Angel to catch up.

  * * *

  Celeste stared at the sonar, watching in disbelief as the smaller blip led the larger one out of the depths, on a collision course with her sub.

  “Goddamn you, Jonas!” She grabbed Prokovich’s arm. “How close are we to
the hydrothermal ceiling?”

  She heard the sounds of soot striking the outer hull.

  “It’s okay,” he replied with a smile. “We’re in the layer now.”

  Visibility disappeared. Celeste held her breath, staring out her porthole. Twenty seconds later, they were through, ascending through frigid waters on their way up to the Goliath.

  The crew clapped, tension in the cabin dissipating. Celeste smiled, grabbing the radio. “Da-svidan’ya, Jonas, my darling . . .”

  Jonas accelerated, following the Prometheus up through the layer of soot. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Angel’s glow rising right behind him. Emerging in the near freezing waters, he soared up toward Celeste’s slow-moving vessel and began circling.

  “Hey, Celeste, I found Angel. Where do you want her?”

  Celeste turned back to her porthole to see the mammoth creature rise up out of the current of debris. Her father’s last words echoed in her mind: See you in hell . . .

  Jonas waited until the Meg closed within fifty yards of the Prometheus. Then he pulled into a tight one-eighty and aimed the nose cone back toward the bottom.

  Celeste’s eyes widened as the hideous white head opened its immense jaws and wrapped them around the circumference of the spherical observation pod mounted beneath the Prometheus.

  Titanium plates screeched in protest. The sub’s ascension halted, the vessel straining to rise against the added mass of the creature.

  With a violent twist of its head, the Megalodon shook its challenger, causing the sub’s power grid to overload in a shower of sparks.

  Blanketed in total darkness, the helpless crew screamed as they were flung blindly about the pitch-dark cabin, tossed to and fro like rag dolls.

  Prokovich fell backward, tumbling into the observation pod. He landed on a pile of squirming arms and legs, his forehead striking the porthole. Opening his eye, he peered through the glass, then screamed, his sanity deserting him.

  The sub’s emergency lights revealed the pink insides of the prehistoric great white’s mouth, which enveloped the spherical pod in a crushing embrace.

  Celeste pressed her face against her porthole and looked down at the creature, its hideous gums stretched open around the observation pod, its gray eye rolled back in its head as it futilely attempted to pierce the titanium casing with its teeth.